


The Kiss

by FeatherStorm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherStorm/pseuds/FeatherStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotions run high in 221B after the Devil takes up residence there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kiss

Sherlock was not happy, and he wanted to be sure that the world knew it. Ever since John had had his girlfriend- Sherlock rolled his eyes in disgust at the word- move into the flat, everything had been different. Things were clean, for one. The books had been organized into a format that made sense to average minds, and things were to be picked up off the floor instead of being dropped haphazardly and trodden on for days after, or until they were needed. She had forced him to relocate his experiments to his room- she'd even gone out and bought him a table just for his microscope in his bedroom.

God, he hated her.

Sherlock was lying on the very clean couch, glaring at the ceiling, which was free of cobwebs for once, (She'd had him dust just yesterday- he, the world's only Consulting Detective, dusting!) when he heard the door open. From the footsteps, it sounded to be the She-Devil herself. Sherlock didn't believe any of the "religions" that the lesser minds subscribed to in a futile attempt to learn the truth, but if there was a Devil, it resided in 221B itself. 

Sherlock sighed as he heard the door open and John's swain enter. Another second of listening and he determined that she was laden with bags from the store. More nicotine patches, he thought with a snicker. It delighted him to know that she hid it from John- it gave him leverage over her.

With another sigh, Sherlock sat up properly. For some reason, John's girlfriend got rather emotional when he put his feet on the couch. After being confined to one place for an hour-long lecture on his "barbaric" behaviors, Sherlock had no desire to be trapped again. According to John, manners dictated that he had to sit and listen while some low-intelligence nicotine addict berated him.

She entered.

"Good afternoon, Sherlock," she quipped in her annoyingly cheerful voice that made him want to shoot the wall again, despite the fact that it had been outlawed due to the fact that "he shouldn't be shooting guns inside the house" for some reason. Sherlock stifled a sneer and managed to mutter back, "Good afternoon."

She let out a pleasant smile and strolled back into the kitchen, humming to herself.

Sherlock slumped over to his designated "paperwork" desk, where his laptop sat on the surface, perched atop a stack of papers on the differences between the manufacturing of cobblestone by two different companies. He'd had to revert to doing his research and basing his deductions off of the observations of others- loud or potentially dangerous experiments had been banned as well, or at least confined to the lab. Sherlock shook his head, trying to rid his normally pristine mind of these ridiculous thoughts. It did him no good to quibble over the past- he should focus on his work. He opened the laptop and began typing.

He was rudely interrupted at some point by a tap on his shoulder, something that hadn't happened before the she-devil moved in. He blinked and turned his head, trying to wipe his face of the frown that had begun to form.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to put on some music," she said softly. "Do you mind?"

He took a breath.

"You're wearing a new perfume," he remarked.

"Yes," she responded, smiling. "Do you think John will like it?"

"No, he dislikes anything too floral. Did you not like your other perfume? Or did he dislike it?"

Her smile faltered. "N-no, I like them both just as well. Why, did you prefer the other?"

"No," he responded. Now for the best part- the realization that he had made one of his "fantastic" leaps of logic. "I never smelt your other one."

First, the befuddlement. "Well, how could you know I'm wearing a new perfume?"

Then he added to it. "It's a new application method, too. Interesting."

"Sherlock, how on earth could you know that?"

Then the tease: "Oh, it's quite obvious, really."

She let out a sigh. "Not to us normal people." She turned and started to walk back to the kitchen. "I'll just close the doors," she threw over her shoulder.

Well, she cut the fun short. Pity. He thought. Then another came to mind: "What doors?"

He turned to see her sliding glass panels closed. "Where did those come from?" he muttered to himself.

He shook his head. It was inconsequential, and should not be bothered with. He turned back to his research.

Someone interrupted him again. This time it was the slamming of the door, and the sound of John's footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock stirred from his research-induced stupor and dragged himself over to the couch, flinging himself onto it, but being sure to leave his feet on the floor. It was uncomfortable, but at least he wouldn't have to sit through another lecture.

John entered the kitchen through the other door. Sherlock heard the music stop and the She-Devil squeal, followed by the sound of the smack of a kiss exchanged between lovers. He listened closer as their conversation started.

"Good day?"

"Yes, not much happened. A few accidents, one involving a pig and a rain gutter, but other than that, nothing. How about you?"

"Nothing much, I just went shopping for some new things. I missed you."

"I missed you too."

The creaking of wood indicated a shift in position. A hug, Sherlock decided.

"Are you wearing new perfume?"

"Y-yes, do you like it?"

"It's… interesting."

"So you hate it."

It was a statement. She'd employed the same tactics before, and John always seemed to fall for it.

"No! I just- I… I love it. It's perfect."

A sigh of happiness, another weight shift, and the sound of more kissing. Sherlock rolled his eyes but heaved himself up from the couch. Making as much noise as he could, he stormed over to the newly-discovered glass doors and pulled them open.

John and the She-Devil were entwined by the door, the groceries lying forgotten on the table. They both looked up, startled, as Sherlock entered.

"Hello, Sherlock," John said, almost nervously.

"Hello, John," he replied, confused as to why his voice sounded so strange all of a sudden. He turned toward his room. "I'll be in my room if I am needed." He heard them giggle as he walked away, and felt a sudden disgust for his friend. 

The door closed, he pulled his shoes from his feet, placed them neatly in the closet, and then flopped backwards onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling again, his eyes absent-mindedly following a crack in the paint that wound its way from the light fixture to the corner of the room and back again. He counted twenty-three tracings of this path before John opened the door.

"Sherlock, what's the matter?" he asked in his simple, clipped way. Sherlock felt a smile curve his lips. He liked John's directness. Always had, and always would.

"Are you okay?" John asked, a bit more worry in his voice again. Sherlock nodded slowly, his eyes still following the path of the crack. He heard John walk toward him again, felt him pick up his arms, roll up his sleeves, and check for needle marks. He didn't resist as he usually did, he just let it happen. It felt so… right, for John to be holding his hand. He didn't know why, didn't know why his brain was so sluggish and vapid, but he didn't mind it.

"Right. Not high, so…" He could hear John trying to figure out what was making him this way, could almost hear his small mind buzzing. Finally, John did the last thing Sherlock expected him to: he laid down beside him.

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock turned his head to look at John. He could see himself reflected in his friend's dark eyes, could read the worry in the lines of John's face. He felt one side of his mouth twitch upwards, and saw the relief and confusion flood John's face.

"What's so funny?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head, feeling himself begin to laugh. John followed suit, until they were chuckling almost as hard as they had in Buckingham Palace. 

As the laughter died, there was a knock on the door. Sherlock turned his head to look as the She-Devil entered.

"Can I help you, Sata-, er, Miss Morstan?" Sherlock asked loudly.

"Sherlock, it's just Mary. There's no need to be so formal," she tittered. "Sorry to interrupt your bonding, But does anyone want coffee or tea?"

John cleared his throat. "Just tea, Mary," he responded.

Mary looked to Sherlock.

"Coffee, black, two sugars." he replied. Mary smiled, nodded, and left the room.

Sherlock went back to looking at John.

"Do you want to get married, John?" he asked.

"Well, sure," his friend responded. "Someday, to the right person."

"No, I meant, do you want to get married to me," Sherlock explained. He examined John's facial expressions intently.

He laughed. "A lifetime of you?" he chuckled. "I'd marry Mycroft just as soon." But Sherlock could see him pondering it, thinking it through, and based on his facial expression, it didn't seem he'd mind it that much. His expression darkened. "Why would you ask that, Sherlock?"

Sherlock thought for a moment, his eyes glancing over John's face- his eyes, his furrowed brow, his weathered skin. 

Then he stopped thinking and leaned in, pressing his lips onto John's.

His fears almost overwhelmed him for a moment, and too late he wondered if it was too forward a move.

But then John reciprocated. Sherlock reached out and-

There was the sound of something crashing to the floor, and Sherlock broke the kiss, whirling about to see Mary standing in the doorway, her hands still clenched around an invisible tea tray. Emotions flickered across her face at a thousand miles an hour, fear, hurt, regret, and anger. Sherlock heard the sharp intake of air behind him as John analyzed the situation. Sherlock tensed, ready to react if necessary.

His preparations were unnecessary. Mary choked back a sudden sob, turned on her heel, and left. Sherlock heard the door slam, and heard John muttering to himself. He turned back to John to see him sitting with his head hanging heavy in his hands. A wave of guilt washed over him.

"John-" he began, but he was cut off.

"What were you thinking, Sherlock?" John burst out. "Why would you do that in front of her?"

"I did not know that-" He stopped, analyzing what John had said. 

In front of her. It implied that he wanted it to happen elsewhere. Sherlock looked at John again, analyzing.

He was slumped, but there was a certain happiness in the way that he held himself. His eyes glowed, he fidgeted with his hands, and there was a hint of a smile on his face.

Sherlock kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun. Please, let me know if you'd like any more. ~darlingdoctor


End file.
